


Something in the Night

by Slantedlight (BySlantedlight)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 02:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17092220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BySlantedlight/pseuds/Slantedlight
Summary: It's easy to get lost in the dark - especially on the longest night of the  year.





	Something in the Night

“Are you sure you’re holding the map the right way up?”

He could feel Bodie’s glare across the car, even though he didn’t dare take his eyes off the road, with the way the light was reflecting off the windscreen and almost blinding him to the night outside.

“Well if you’d try to avoid hitting every pothole on this fucking road I might be able to read it!” 

“Do you know what time it is?”

“Can’t help it - you’ve been reminding me every fifteen minutes since we left Bath…”

“Two thirty!”

“I told you we shouldn’t have turned right at… Now what the hell are you doing?”

Against all the odds, Doyle had spotted somewhere to pull in - a single track path on the other side of the road, where they could sit in safety, he could get out and take a piss, and he could _not kill bloody Bodie_!

“We need a break,” he said shortly, turning the engine off, and flicking off the ceiling light for good measure. Night flooded the car, washed them over with darkness, with quiet but for the pinging of the cooling motor - a kind of peace.

Doyle closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then leaned forward and let his head rest on the top of the steering wheel. After a moment he felt a hand card gently through his curls, once, twice, then away.

There was a rustling of paper, and the car door opened, the light flicking briefly on and then off as Bodie closed it once more, and Doyle was left alone. He lifted his head, rubbed his face with his hands, and opened his eyes again. The world around him was barely dark at all, he realised; there was a full moon somewhere up above them, so that Bodie’s bulk was clearly outlined, leaning against the side of the car, and in front of him were fields flooded with moonlight, and… what the hell?

He peered forward, rubbing his eyes again in case he was imagining things, but… After a moment he got out of the car and went around to stand next to Bodie. They glanced at each other, and in unspoken agreement began trudging along the path, looking for a break in the fence that would let them into the field, take them across it under the moonlight. There…

Slowly but surely the black-on-dark bumps lifting from the horizon resolved themselves into stones, stones standing tall and proud and ancient, under the same moon that had been pouring light on them for thousands of years.

“Stonehenge,” Bodie murmured in disbelief, pausing to survey the scene, “How the hell did we end up at Stonehenge?”

Doyle stopped beside him for a minute, close enough to feel Bodie’s warmth all down one side, took a breath of chill night air, then carried on. Somewhere in the distance a flock of sheep had been disturbed, and were baaaah-ing their annoyance into the night - a fox perhaps, watching out for its dinner. An owl hooted warning to his left, loudly enough that he all but jumped. Surely they should be tucked up somewhere, in the middle of a December night… 

And then there he was, in the middle of the stone circle, monoliths looming on every side, and a full moon bright in the sky above him, as if it was the middle of a day that had been leeched of colour, or they’d fallen back into some black and white film.

“Shades of _The Wicker Man_ ,” Bodie said beside him, and this time he did jump. “Reckon that’s the altar stone?”

Doyle followed the length of Bodie’s arm to an enormous toppled block, saw to his surprise that it was scattered with flowers drained, like everything else, to monochrome silver. 

“Night after midwinter,” Bodie said knowledgeably, as if that made any difference to anything.

“So?” he said, “What’s that got to do with the price of fish?”

“When all the druids come and dance naked, isn’t it?”

“In December? With flowers?” He thought for a moment. “’ang on a minute, aren’t they the old blokes with long white beards?”

“I never said it was a pretty sight, I said it was midwinter…”

“Moron…” Doyle spun a slow circle, could almost feel the earth tilting around him as he did it. He put out a hand, balanced himself on Bodie’s shoulder, felt Bodie’s hand slide around his waist and pull him closer.

“You don’t fancy dancing naked for me, then?” Bodie asked sadly, tipping his head towards the altar stone. “Maybe they left a fig leaf you could… ow!” He clutched at his arm where Doyle had thumped him, managed to look hard done by, even by moonlight, so that Doyle sniffed disparagingly, but stepped closer still, wrapping his arms around him, letting his cheek rest against Bodie’s.

“At least you’re warm,” he said over Bodie’s shoulder, gazing upwards at the pale scattering of stars. Bodie’s heart beat against his chest, his chest rose and fell with his breath, and they breathed together.

After a moment Bodie dipped his head and nuzzled at his neck, kissed him there, where he knew it shot sparks of fire to Doyle’s groin, to his heart. “Just as well we turned right where we did, isn’t it?” he muttered, and Doyle nodded, tightened his arms, and turned his head to kiss Bodie back, in the moonlight, in the circle of Stonehenge, and their world crept a little closer to the summertime.

_21st December, 2012_


End file.
